Faulty Angels
by xXxCookiexXx
Summary: Things pop up, Sherlock has a sister, Molly may or may not get kidnapped, somebody dies, and everybody hates Mycroft. Rating may change due to levels of gore, torture, and violence. no pairings most likely, just the normal hinted Sherlolly that is contained in the show itself. Though I'm not sure if somebody really dies. Its all a blur, really.
1. Prologue

Rain fell, tears soaking the pavement, but the city remained constant, apart from the occasional umbrella flying away from its owner. Thunder crashed, cackled, and boomed. Lightning lit up faces, drowning everyone in ghostly white light. The thunder, the lightning, the howling wind, my senses were overloaded, and fear gripped me. It took all my strength in my cold, soaked state to make it to the door. I buzzed myself in, as I hadn't done in years. Mrs. Hudson came to the door with fear in her eyes, but as she cast her gaze at me, the fear increased to worry. She gestured me to come in, her brow furrowing, and so I walked up stairs. I was met upstairs by a very surprised man. I almost turned to exit when I heard a voice, that voice, and I felt a gun to my head. "Where have you been?"


	2. Chapter 1

I swung, knocking the gun out of my brother's hands, and pinned him to the ground, my hands around his neck. "Now is that any way to treat your poor little sister, you know I get angry when I'm scared." I would think that he would know better by now not to push me when it is stormy. I always respond with violence when I am terrified, and really hate it when my older brothers put guns to my head, it gets rather old. "Now, don't make too much noise. I don't want Mycie to know I'm here. That would over complicate things. He always seems to want to lock me up."

The man that I saw when I first walked in spoke up, "Sherlock, who is this?" he looked very perplexed, and kind of stunned, as to how I, being the small thing that I am, overpowered my brother so quickly. I stood up, dusting my self off, still soaked, and offered my hand.

"Felicity Holmes, that idiot's younger sister." I gestured to Sherlock. He rolled his eyes, making me laugh. "Him and Mycroft, always have to pull a gun on me. I pop up every five years. Trust me; you would know if I was dead." I was getting bored of this conversation, and though the distraction of Sherlock's uncommonly worried greeting helped. It was stilly stormy, and I was still soaked. "Please, does anyone have anything… warm I can wear

* * *

I really was looking forward to catching up, the two of us sipping tea by the fire, sharing heartwarming, near death experiences, but appearantly, he was working on a case. "What's it about?" I inquired, using my most endearingly annoying little sister voice.

"A man was found in the Thames. No wounds, yet in perfect health his heart just stopped." I opened the fridge nonchalantly. I pulled out the only edible thing in there, a banana.

"Electrocution, don't look for the culprit though, it was self defense."

John looked up from his laptop surprised. "How do you know?"

I looked Sherlock in the eye, and simultaneously we replied, "Because I (she) was there."

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**Reviews apriciated, espescailly to help me fix spelling and grammar mistakes. I hat it when I don't catch those. Now tell me... WHO WANTS TO SEE MYCROFT?! Because he is coming soon.**


	3. Chapter 2

**First I just want to thank my only confirmed reader, who also has Followed, Favorited, and Reviewed (twice). Thank you.**

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"Wait, so you're telling me that you caused a case that took over three weeks to solve. Even for Sherlock."

"Over three weeks, you're getting slow in you're old age, brother dear" he rolled his eyes, making me laugh. "One would think you had fallen victim to that sentiment you despise so much, don't tell me your growing soft." Oh! How much I LOVED to tease him. He and I would banter back and forth, mostly on my part. He would always get tired, then it wasn't very much fun... But that isn't really part of our stories.

"You really can't give it a rest, can you. Always having to poke fun at my age, why do you never make fun of Mycroft? He is older than I am!"

"Oh, Sherlock. You really are such a big baby, always whining. Plus, you know me and Mycroft don't get along. He's no fun at all."

Thunder shook the house, rattling the windows, followed by lightning, and another bang. I dropped to the ground, rolled under the table, and curled into a ball. I could feel confusion on John's face, and worry on Mrs. Hudson's as they both attempted in coaxing me out. It wasn't until I heard Sherlock's soft whisper. Only I could hear it. Only I had ever been able to. It was barely audible, so gentle, that it was surprising it could come from him. "It's not like it is going to happen again, no one can get you here, and they wouldn't dare try with me and John, come out Felicity. You're safe here. Come out."

and so I did

* * *

"What was that all about?" John asked. It surprised me a little, because he seemed so concerned. He even got me out a blanket and fixed me some tea. I looked at Sherlock expectantly.

He sighed. "She has been this way for five years, ever since she was twelve. We never really found out what happened to her, only that it was Mycroft's fault that it happened. She ran away the day after, she popped back up three years ago in a storm like tonight, two weeks before I met you. I couldn't get a word out of her, I doubt she had said anything since that night. but I got her to at, and then the next morning, she was gone. Literally, without a trace." He turned to look at me, eyes laced with anger, and whispered, "Go. Hide. He's here," just in the same second that Mycroft came sauntering in, a bright smile on his face, umbrella in hand. My cup fell, tea splattering on the floor. His eyes fell on mine. I screamed and screamed until the room swam and revolved around me, and the blackness of his pupils engulfed me.

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**There you have it. Brand spanking new chapter, straight out of my mind. I hoped you enjoyed it, I realized halfway through that I had promised Mycroft. So here he was. What could he have possibly done for Felicity to be so scared of him, and storms? Or maybe, it's what he didn't due.**

**Stay tuned, I promise I'll do better on updating come Monday. I'm on spring break and the chapters are short, so I guess that helps. I may be popping out as many as three to five a day some of next week.**

**Thanks to my faithful reader! If there are more of you, I would love to hear from you, Favorite, Follow, and Review like crazy.**

**That's how the xXxCookiexXx crumbles!**


	4. Chapter 3

Night was on my side. I could escape through my window, without anyone ever sensing the lack of my presence. I rose, softly moving to the latch. It clicked, and the baritone voice that followed made me jump out of my skin. "He swears he didn't know. I would listen to him, just for a moment. Oh, and try not to spill tea on the floor, Mrs. Hudson has a bad hip."

" I also remember her NOT BEING YOUR HOUSEKEEPER. Now I suggest you shut up and leave so I can go back to being the Holmes problem child, mummy hating me, and NEVER speaking tho m]My croft again." I waited for him to leave, like everyone else had done, but Sherlock isn't everyone else, is he. He is my brother.

But I was fed up with everyone telling me to give it up and give Mycroft a chance. He of all people should understand that I very well cannot do that. He didn't speak to Mycroft for a year after I disappeared. He has no right to tell me to do anything, since I have looked after him for years. He stopped looking for me and everything. If anyone has any right to not speak to any person in this whole universe again, its me. And I wanted him to know.

"You know, your one to talk. If I remember correctly, which you know I always do, you didn't talk to Mycroft for a whole year after I left, and you never let him do anything for you. You aren't exactly the king of forgiveness yourself you know. You have no IDEA what I went through just to stay near you. how many time I've been abducted and had to fight my way out, you have no idea how much mess your job has gotten me into. You had no idea I was alive until three hours ago, because you STOPPED LOOKING! YOU GAVE UP ON ME! I WANTED YOU TO SEE ME! TO JUST TURN AROUND WHEN I CALLED YOUR NAME BUT YOU! WEREN'T! THERE!" and with a hurried flash I opened the window, sliding down the drainage pipe and into the alley. I ran to the street, going to the only place, the only person I knew who would take me in at this hour. Molly Hooper.

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**I am a horrible person, but yesterday and today were really hectic and I promise the chapters will be longer and tell me if Felicity is Mary Sue-ish at all and I hope to not be such a drama queen with my main character. **

**The devil wears westwood**

**thank you and goodnight!**


	5. Chapter 4

**First things first, my reviewers,**

**thanks to Charisma26 for her faithful reviewing, and the guest name Kit, and Sherdocwho**

**to: Sherdocwho: I have no idea why or why it isn't popular, nut it does get a lot of traffic, so I guess that stands for something**

* * *

I felt like I was about to explode! I hated crying! No tears for Felicity Holmes.

"I don't understand. Everybody is telling me that I should listen to him and try to understand. The thing is, I can't understand. I don't remember. All I know is that every time I see him I scream and faint. I can't control it. I don't know how. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I couldn't hold them in any more. I looked into Molly's eyes, possibly searching for something, but mostly wondering why she too was a broken soul. "What did he do to you, my brother, what could he possibly have done to make someone as strong as you break." She looked down.

After a few moments she spoke, but she didn't answer, not directly at least, "He will be here soon, if you want to avoid confrontation I suggest exiting from the escape latch in the broom closet over there." She pointed over to a small door. I felt very confused.

"Why would he come here of all places, what can he get in a morgue?" I really had no idea.

"He always comes here to complain, because he knows that I am the only one who will listen, and I guess I am the only one he trusts." She looked down. After a moment her phone beeped, "Go! Hide in there, I can fool him. Go!"

"How can you fool him? He is Sherlock Holmes."

"Trust me, I have been hiding things from him for years. Now GO!"

* * *

"...How could she just run off like that... I don't understand why she would just run off like that... I spent the entire year after she left... Still haven't talked to mother... What do you think I should do?"

"Well, how did you fee when she left? She would want to know that."

"Cold. Stunned. Abandoned. For once in my life I couldn't think. I couldn't feel. I was so alone after that. I don't understand..."

Molly's plan was in action now, the ball was rolling, and she wasn't going to let Sherlock stop it. "If you could say anything to her now, what would you say to her?"

"I don't see how this has any-" She cut him off

"What would you say."

"I don't know. I don't know, Molly. I DON'T KNOW!" He grabbed his head in his hands.

"Did you ever stop looking?"

There were no leads. I couldn't find her anywhere. It was like she didn't exist anymore."

"Did. You. Stop. Looking?"

"Never."

I stepped out silently, tears still on my cheeks, and wrapped my arms around his waist. "I'm sorry Sherlock. I didn't mean to make you hurt like that."

I couldn't quite read the expression on his face, but I knew he was a bit relieved that I was safe.

That, of course, was when reality spontaneously combusted, so to speak.

In other words, the world began to crumble.

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**I really hope you enjoy, and give me any suggestions, maybe for names of evil villians**

**Is Sherlock a little OCC?**

**Tell me if anything is wrong, or right.**

**I LOVE YOU GUYS**

**Tear up the Favorite and Follow buttons, and review like the world is ending and this story is the only thing that can save it!**


	6. Chapter 5

Black clouds drifted from my eyes. I could barely tell where I was, and panic struck me when I couldn't sense Molly or Sherlock. Though my first impulse was to scream their names at the top of my lungs, I decided the best thing to do was to scout my way out to try to find and help them.

_First things first. My hands aren't bound, so the exit and entrance of this room must be near impossible to reach or open. He likes to play games with me, so there is an easy way out under my nose, And he doesn't hate me, so there has to be one way or another that I can win. _My thoughts on the situation didn't take very long, nor did getting out, seeing as my hands weren't bound, but I couldn't help but notice that someone was watching me, and I didn't quite like it.

The second I left the room, I knew something was wrong. The eyes continued to follow me, and I couldn't stop thinking that I knew the watcher, that they were someone I trusted. I almost made it out when they stepped out of the shadows. For a moment I was very confused. Then slightly angry. "You could have said something!" I whispered harshly. "I wouldn't have been as terrified." I really hated him right now.

He took a step forward, acting like he hadn't even heard me. "Where is she?"

"Sherlock?" I was worried, because I didn't know.

"WHERE IS SHE?!" He screamed, I hadn't seen him like this since I left.

Then we heard the voice of the devil himself. "You know, once I took your John. Now I've taken your Molly. How much longer will it be, Sherlock, until I succeed in taking your sister. I tried once before, you know. But the weather was horrid. She seemed to... Slip away." He cackled. A voice I hated, and would never forgive. The voice that broke my brother, and almost killed his friends. The voice that time after time tried to poison my dreams. I vowed that day, and every day after, that I vould be the death of that voice, or it of me.

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**Sorry, I was gone all weekend.** **The chapter is short. But Jim is back.**


	7. Chapter 6

Three months.

It took him three months to start asking the right questions.

He spent the first month running around everywhere. He swore to John it had nothing to do with who was TAKEN and everything to who TOOK her. For his own benefit, John made the decision not to pursue the subject further, and though I knew differently, so did I. me and John both knew that Sherlock's mind was thick with worry.

The second month, he spoke only to John and Mrs. Hudson, choosing to ignore me. He probably blamed me and thought that if I hadn't had shown up none of this would have happened. He had put up so many walls since I left, walls to keep out everyone. But I came back and he started to take them down, only a little, and this is what happened.

The third month he wouldn't speak to anyone. We would leave food on the coffee table by the couch and come back later and it was gone. He was thinking, processing everything he had discovered and trying to piece it together. It was truly pitiful, because I knew that no matter what Moriarty was doing to Molly in the time he took to find them, He would be near done and ready to put her away somewhere. And I knew he would come after me next, permanently this time. And I knew that I couldn't go alone, and knew exactly where it was.

It was very rainy, and stormy, like that night, when he finally realized that I had all the answers. "He said he had taken you before."

"He did."

"So you know where she is?"

"I do."

"And you haven't TOLD ME?!"

"You never asked. And I couldn't go alone." I was slightly angry. He was still blaming me, while I am probably in more danger than Molly ever was. Jim is a psychopath, but he isn't rude, if you are polite, he is too, and he rarely ever tortures, and when he does, it's in front of your loved ones, so that they have to hear you scream. She was probably in some sort of room, like a cell, with a small TV and a nice bed, like a really boring vacation, or a never ending sick day.

"One more thing—"

"Yes."

"I was going to ask you if he tried to abduct you more than the day before you left."

"Yes. I already answered that one, now go grab John; we have a Jim to capture and a Molly to save. He likes to play games so we best not be late!"

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**Don't kill me, I'm gonna try harder! Here is two in one day! please don't be mad, 'cause the story might get really interesting, and I would never hurt Molly.**


	8. Chapter 7

I ran through the hallways of the office building. It was a genius hide out, because you had space, a cover, and an obvious alibi. I got away from Sherlock as soon as I could. I couldn't stand him when I had to move quickly, and this was one of those times. Moriarty wouldn't touch Molly without letting us know, but that didn't mean she wouldn't be harmed. Leave it to my brother to have the emotional range of a teaspoon. I really couldn't stand him sometimes. He didn't understand that Molly would be terrified, but Moriarty would use that against her.

Finding her room was easy, it was the only one open on the floor, I was guessing that this was a control floor, because of all the rooms with sound and lighting equipment, hiding a small interrogation room in this mess would be easy, if they didn't leave the door open.

I should have guessed it was a trap. It was too easy to be a mistake. In fact, I walked in there thinking: _this whole thing is a trap; you should get out of there. _But I had to save Molly, for Sherlock's sake, as well as for mine. I don't think Sherlock blamed me anymore, but I had always blamed me, because it is always my fault.

When I entered the room, I jest about screamed. The door shut behind me and the lights turned on. I saw Molly through the glass, and she was screaming too. Both of our rooms were covered in words, I can say that, because there were two, repeated over and over. _Burn Sherlock burn Sherlock burn._

It took a few seconds to register as I breathed in the sweetly rancid smell of knock out gas, and with my world swimming, sink into the ground while grey smoke engulfed my vision

The last thing I heard for a very long while was the devil's laughter.

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**Sorry, it is really short. PM me any good torture Ideas.**

**We're gonna make Sherlock really angry in the next chapter**

**(****_oh no! now I talk to myself on the internet as well, things are not looking up_****)**

**Bye Guys! LOVE YA!**


	9. Chapter 8

Through the looking glass

It wasn't a mirror, but it wasn't a window either. It was almost as if it was both, depending in the direction you looked at it.

This was all I could let myself think about for the first seven hours of my confinement. Well, the first seven conscious hours. They had switched the 'window' to a mirror, so I could no longer see Molly's face. This is why I had referred to it as solitude.

I could see myself. I was chained, with actual chains. They should have made a cacophony of sound, with the clanging and the rattling, but every time I moved, I could feel the noise, the vibrations, but I couldn't hear it. I tried to speak, see if I could speak, talk to myself and understand, but I couldn't hear anything.

They had given me what I hated most, what I feared most.

Silence

* * *

The next time I woke up, I was numb.

I could not feel anything. I was only standing by the chains that were consistently around my wrists.

It didn't take more than a few seconds to realize that they were robbing me of my senses.

* * *

After that, things seemed to get better, because, when I woke up the next time, I could move, and here, I was just blind. I reveled in my happiness, because my favorite sense was back.

I had a feeling they would forgo smell.

I was right.

* * *

They were done playing tricks, the fear factor had diminished; it was time for them to put on a show.

The next time I woke up, I had all five senses, and they had been permanently enhanced. I could see through the 'window' and saw that they hadn't done the same things to Molly. The show had already started for Sherlock, and now it was going to start for me.

Molly had been my constant companion since the time I left. I had trusted her to watch after Sherlock, seeing as they were old friends from school (well, I say friends) and he always seemed to pop up in her lab. I would, most of the time, be somewhere around, always watching, and keeping track of him.

I spent many a night sleeping on one of the morgue beds, whether I needed medical assistance or not, she told me I was always welcome.

She became my tie to Sherlock, my tie to sanity, and my tie to life.

To lose her would be an unspeakable horror.

And so, here I was, ready for whatever pain they inflicted on me, but I couldn't help it when my heart screamed for Molly.

Her face was broken and bloodied. Obvious to the fact she had been punched many times. The way she held herself told me that she had at least two broken ribs. Three of her fingers were bent at odd angles. I was this ([-]) close to sending all of the people in this building to the very depths of Hades. I choose my friends very carefully, so when you hurt them, you better say goodbye.

Now, think about it, if I look at it this way, imagine Sherlock's reaction.

I wish I could tell you that they gave us time to catch up and make sure the other was alright, but the devil has no patients.

His voice made me want to vomit.

Now that I think about it, I think I might have.

He started talking about all this nonsense how I had started my brother's first case, and how Molly had helped him too much, and how he had promised him that he would burn the heart out of him.

I hated that guy.

He then informed us of his method of torture. He would shock one of us with electricity. Every time we screamed, the other would be doused in gasoline. At the end of the hour the one doused would be set on fire and burned until the gasoline was gone.

I was first for electricity.

My only words, "The game, Molly Hooper, is on."

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**Molly has already endured all I think she can take, for now, but Felicity has a lot in store. She will do what ever it takes to protect her friends, and who knows, it may even cost her her life.**

**PM me anything you think would be good in the next chapter.**

**Favorite, Follow, and Review!**

**I LOVE YOU GUYS**

**P.S. look at the cover photo carefully, look at the first wing, it has an acedental (well, simi) message to my readers.**


	10. Chapter 9

I was strong. I was brave. I held my tongue.

But it hurt.

I had to do it, for Molly. So she didn't burn. I had to save her, and Sherlock, from more pain.

I have a small whole in my tongue.

I know its just a matter of time until we switch places, I still haven't found, the cameras.

I'm beginning to wonder if he is playing a game at all.

I am finally allowed to move around my room, which means I can have somewhat of a conversation with Molly, and she is healing okay. I worry about her. A lot.

They let me keep my watch though.

Right date and time.

I find this odd

Maybe they want to taunt us

Show us this is how long it took Sherlock Holmes to find you.

I hate that man, Moriarty, the devil. He hurts the people I love. I swear, if I can, I will be the death of him.

Today, he came again. It was Molly's turn to roll. He said that we might make it out of here alive, if neither of us acts up.

I held my tongue.

There was no way in this world that we could make it out of here alive.

She screamed only once, at the highest intensity. While they were shocking her I found the camera.

I was drenched in gasoline.

I didn't scream the entire time, for fear of what they would do to Molly, because it was gasoline, I did get burned, but it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.

At the very end, when I knew that everyone could see my face, I winked at the camera.

I wanted Sherlock to know that no matter what they took, they couldn't take the natural Holmes iron will.

And that I loved him.

After that the world just sort of faded into blackness.

I felt like I was swimming in the ocean.

The salt water stung.

I woke up drenched in salt water.

I must have a guardian angel here. Or the devil has taken a liking to me.

That is something to fear.

An angel living in the house of demons.

I didn't sleep for three days after that.

I can't sleep when I'm scared.

I think he decided that that form of torture was over. Because the next time I heard him, he was standing in my doorway with two very large men.

I didn't like where this was going.

They took me to another room, a room that I was soon to call the room of demons, because, as apposed to Molly's and my full white rooms, this one was all black.

The men held me up.

The devil took out a scalpel, and carefully carved my flesh with it.

He drew words in my skin.

"Remember" across my forehead

"Sherlock" across my stomach

And down my spine "I" "O" "U"

He took great care in carving those letters, drawing them out, taking his time.

I looked him in the eye the entire time.

If looks could kill…

He would be dead now

I hated that man, his awful face, his evil eyes. The look in my eyes was so loathsome that it must have put fire in his veins.

That was a terrifying thought.

So I was content just on hating him, because no matter how bad I was tortured, if I kept my friends safe, that was all that matters.

Keep them safe, keep them happy.

Never let them see the damage.

It just might break their heart.

I learned this the hard way.

* * *

**Okay, sorry I'm late.**

**I'll do better next time.**

**I am thinking about doing a Sherlock's side kind of drabble**

**Anyways, F,F,&R!**

**ILY!**


	11. Chapter 10

Blood.

It would have pooled around me, if I hadn't.

So I wrote on the wall, in blood.

I thought as I wrote, as I could feel my life leaking out.

The devil was bored; I'll give him a poem.

How evilly poetic, poetry, written in blood:

_The devil likes his Angels,_

_He keeps them in a cell,_

_He likes to torture them_

_Thinks it fun, from what I can tell._

_But he doesn't seem to see,_

_That we angel, we have some wings,_

_And soon we'll fly away,_

_To a place which we'll sing._

_Then he will be plagued with understanding,_

_Of the sins in which he hath done,_

_You don't want to mess with all the angels,_

_But you do, by messing with one._

_So open your eyes, see._

_Your mistake by messing with me._

I hope he likes it; I do love a good Shakespearean sonnet.

I think they saw me write it, because I have bandages now, and I am bound, so my wounds don't open.

I wish they hadn't.

It is so boring.

I need something to do, anything at all.

I lost my voice yesterday.

I spent the entire day serenading my captors and telling them stories.

I have gotten many stories to tell over the past five years.

It isn't hard to see things, to know people, when all you have done for the past five years is hide, in a city, watching one man.

Well, maybe two.

I will admit, I knew about Moriarty long ago.

Farther back than I care to remember, actually.

I've finally come to terms that he was involved with what made me run away, but he still won't tell me.

I don't know if it was Mycroft's fault anymore.

I might try, when I get out, talking to him.

I know he missed me.

Here I am, bored out of it, but still rambling on in my mind.

It helps me think.

It is almost like I'm writing a diary in my head, except, you know, there isn't any paper, and no one can read it.

I wonder what Sherlock would think about it.

He probably already keeps a diary in his head, important things he needs to remember, people he doesn't want to forget.

I wonder what he is doing, if he is looking for me yet.

Mrs. Hudson is probably a nervous wreck.

I really hope that we get out soon.

I wonder what Molly is doing.

I haven't spoken in three days; I think I have my voice back.

"Molly? Molly, can you hear me?" I whisper at the glass. I really hope she can, I want to know that she is alright.

"Yeah, I'm fine; they haven't come for me in a week, since they made me dress your wounds." Oh, that's new. I was so disoriented from the blood loss that I didn't notice she was the one who bound them.

"so you saw the—"

"Yeah, I did, he wrote the same thing on my arms."

I broke down. I couldn't think anymore.

They let me see the damage.

* * *

Okay, Ill start on that Sherlock Drabble.

FFR

Smell ya later


	12. Chapter 11

They came for me again last night.

They reopened the scars.

They broke my arm.

They broke three ribs.

And I had to watch his face, the entire time.

Sherlock

He looked broken.

Like he had come from a battle he just couldn't win.

I knew that he wanted to give up.

That looking for us, when he knew this was going on, was to painful.

But he couldn't, could he?

He couldn't give up.

He blamed himself.

He thinks we won't forgive him.

I hate the devil.

He made me break.

He showed me the damage, first and second hand.

And he isn't even finished.

I hate him.

And if I am given the chance,

I will kill him.

I promise that.

And I told Sherlock that.

I hope he can forgive me, because it hurts, I have seen him every day for a week, and he gets worse and worse.

He never saw me cry, not when the devil broke my arms, not when he opened the scars.

He never saw me cry until I saw the tear come out of his own eye, not really by force, not even consciously. My impossible brother had cried because he blamed himself, and since all this was my fault, it broke me.

I would tear the world apart for any of them.

And through that tear, it also showed me another thing. He was doing the same thing to Molly. He was making her hurt, and watching Sherlock see the damage.

I can't stop it.

I have to get out somehow.

I can't let this go on.

I've never really been one for pointless games. And all this is doing is making me angry.

I think the devil needs to go home.

He came today, and I told him.

"You need to go away."

"What"

Away, I don't want to see your face anymore; I don't want to hear your voice anymore. Go away, take your henchmen with you, and get out of my sight."

He hit me. Slapped my face.

I slapped him back, punched him in the nose, in the stomach, and told him. "Run"

I hoped he would get that I wasn't his toy anymore. I wasn't his leverage.

He didn't.

Fortunately, I now had keys to Molly's and my rooms.

And I really was hoping no one was outside.

There was.

Sherlock.

I had work to do, I couldn't talk to him yet.

Time to go.

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**Okay, I need to know two things, do you expect a sequel, and should this end in tragedy?**

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**Also read the Sherlock Drabble: Broken Minds and Burnt Hearts**


	13. Chapter 12

Things went threw according to plan.

Well… sort of.

I mean, we got out okay.

We didn't die.

But… Sherlock had to carry Molly out.

When we wound her, she was curled up in a ball in the corner of her cell. She wasn't responding to anything we said. Her pulse was rapid, but her breathing was very faint.

I almost cried when they loaded her into the ambulance.

I let Sherlock ride in the ambulance.

If looks could kill…

John came out of the building, and saw me trying to hail a taxi.

He thought I should go to the hospital with my injuries.

I told him I spent a time with two broken wrists, a fractured leg, and a concussion, and I still didn't go to the hospital.

He hoisted me up like a sack of potatoes.

Then proceeded to carry me all the way to Bart's.

I don't think I have ever been so tired in my life.

The second I touched the bed, I almost passed out.

They set my cast and told me that I would have to stay awake so that they can monitor me.

I asked John how long I had been gone.

I think he said two weeks.

Possibly two months.

Hopefully not two years.

I needed food, now.

I didn't eat anything when I was with the devil.

He never gave me any food.

I have been starving before, but never this bad.

I needed food now.

When the brought in lunch, I ate it in three bites.

It was a chicken sandwich, applesauce, and a pudding cup.

I slept for three days.

Maybe even four.

And gained three pounds in a week.

I went into the house of the devil weighing 123 pounds.

I came out weighing 75.

I think it was longer than two weeks.

They probably injected me with sustenance every time I passed out.

Just enough to keep me alive.

I think I might throw up.

Molly came home today.

She was going throw severe shock.

I think it was poison induced.

So does Sherlock.

I think they were trying to kill her.

She speaks now.

I don't know how much longer I can take staying in this house without any action.

I think I may just die of boredom.

Turns out, I will have Remember scarred into my forehead forever.

Isn't that fun.

I can't be invisible anymore.

I talked to Sherlock last week.

"What did you do while we were gone?"

"I died. Every day. I died, because I couldn't come."

"Why?"

"Because it is my fault. I couldn't protect you."

I cried.

He says he couldn't protect me.

I couldn't protect him.

It is a hard life, being a Holmes.

We can't handle not being in control.

So we can't handle not taking the blame.

I did what I promised never to do.

I let him see the damage.

And he let me.

I wish I could tell him that everything was all right.

But I can't.

The devil still has his tricks.

And he will find a way to get back to me.

I am afraid.

I am afraid that for once, when I fall, someone will be there to catch me.

I can't live my life reliant on others.

Because I can't help but hurt them.

I was always afraid of letting people down.

So I refused.

What have I done?

I have gone, and become the exact thing my brother wanted to keep me from.

And I can't help but wonder if it is for the best.

Holmes is a name with a curse.

It also a name with a promise.

I will always be able to help.

But I will never be able to receive it.

I hope they can forgive me.

* * *

**Sorry for not updating yesterday.**

**I hope you like this one, I tried to make it longer.**

**I didn't want to end it yet.**

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	14. Chapter 13

I walked out into the street. I was loosing daylight fast, and I wanted to get to Bart's before it was dark.

We had a case, Sherlock and I, and we were working it together.

Well, actually, we had worked it, within a few seconds, but we couldn't tell them yet. They might start wondering how we got it so fast.

It was really easy.

Though, that was mainly because I had seen it before.

Actually, don't tell Sherlock, but I was there.

I was actually getting coffee across the street, on my laptop researching John's new girlfriend, well, to be totally honest, his girlfriends sister.

Anyhow, I saw a man dragging a bag and dumping it of the Thames.

I swam down, saw the hand, acted homeless, and pick pocketed the murderer.

It was all in good fun.

I think John might have found his match.

She is the only one who can love Sherlock too.

I wish things would speed up; Christmas is only six weeks away.

I haven't had a Christmas in five years.

I got to Bart's, brought Molly down some coffee.

Sherlock has had her working like a dog since she recovered.

I don't think he realizes she might die of exhaustion.

At around midnight, I usually take over for her, so that she can nap.

The coffee has started to work less and less.

She might have a chemical addiction.

I should wean her off of it.

I really need to give my brother a good talking to, a really good one.

And by a "talking to" I mean I need to yell in his face about his insensitivity to human needs and that if he sets foot in Bart's in the next two months I will throw his violin into the Thames and push him off to go after it.

It seems extreme, but Molly really needs her sleep.

On the other hand, so do I, so I might just put her into hiding for a few days.

Sherlock can handle time without us for a few days.

I think.

He has John to help him, so he should be alright.

I walk through the doors of the morgue, coffee in hand, but I refuse to give it to her until she promises that we are taking a vacation and she is going to sleep for at least twelve hours.

I am about to do something I haven't done in a very long time.

I am going to ask a favor.

From Mycroft.

I am pulling out my phone.

I dial his number.

"Mycroft?" my voice shivers. I gave it that little, girly tone that I used to use to get my way, since him and Sherlock were way older, and couldn't resist it. "Can you do me a favor? I need to stay hidden so Molly and I can rest. Can you hide us from Sherlock for a few days?"

I could feel the gears in his head turning. It was the second time in years I had spoken to him, and I was asking for a favor. He was trying to decide how to say no without ruining it.

"Pretty Please." I know that he was now picturing the little seven year old me, batting her long eyelashes, with that tiny little pout.

"I suppose I can, just don't expect me to explain why you were gone to Sherlock."

"Oh! Thank You! Thank You! THANK YOU!" he he, I always got what I wanted out of Mycroft, especially when I was little.

I turned to Molly, "Great. We will be leaving in an hour." And told her, "Go, get your things, now."

And off we went.

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**Okay, very sorry to all my faithful readers.**

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